Caged
by Jiyu
Summary: Silven is a well-known pokemon trainer for underground pit fights; fights that are commonly bloody and end in death. A look through the eyes of trainer and pokemon, of the rage and sorrow behind an assassination that finally grants one of the pair their


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Caged

Chapter 1: Proposition

AN: _This is proposed as being four chapters, one and a half of which I am finished with now. Silven and Terra are my characters, and therefore I hold the right to keep them all for myself. (However, if you ask nicely, I might let you throw stones at Terra as I never really liked her to begin with) I claim no right to the nameless "gentlemen" because I really don't like him at all. ;P You can throw stones without asking at him._

Disclaimer: _As always, I don't own Pokemon or any of their characters. So, I can't promise if they'll all behave pleasantly and not kill each other. ;P_

Reviews are welcomed, constructive criticism is begged for!

The beast paced back and forth in the squat cage, its tail flicking occasionally. Its owner and trainer sat on a crate to the cage's right, absently listening to the raucous from above ground.

"And Houndoom lashes out with its flame breath! It looks like this one's over folks, and the other trainer's going to feel this loss for a while!" The announcer's voice drifted down from the coliseum, followed by an enthusiastic roar from the crowd.

The man on the crates stood, unlatching a black and yellow ultra ball from his belt. He raised the object towards the caged feline, which snarled viciously at him before becoming engulfed in a red glow and transferred to the inside of the electronic device. The man, who had brown hair slicked back and pulled into a ponytail, black khakis, and a mid-sleeve white shirt, turned his gaze to the door leading up into the arena.

The door slid open and a medical team rushed in carrying the charred trainer from the previous fight. His face was bloodied beyond recognition, and the man doubted that he would live to see the sunset tonight. Another medical unit followed the first one, though they took their time, as their patient was deceased. Occupying the stretcher between the four medical operatives was a bloody Spearow, its feathers burnt black and numerous bites scoring its body.

Once more the announcer's voice could be heard, this time much more clearly because of the opened door, "Next match is Silven's Persian against Terra's Raticate! Can't wait to see what happens when that cat's let out of the ball!" The crowd roared hysterically as Silven walked out of the holding gate and into the arena. He squinted his eyes slightly against the light, raising his arm to shield them until they adjusted. Terra was already standing in the white trainer's box, her green hair in two pigtails behind her. She wore a dark green skirt with a tan skirt, the broad straps from the skirt going over her shoulders in an untimely fashion. Silven spat on the ground before raising the black and yellow sphere into the air.

Immediately, a red beam shot out from the device and reformed the living, breathing creature that was Silven's prized Persian. On the other side of the field, the female trainer had released a scrappy-looking Raticate. It was missing part of its left ear and its coat was tangled and matted.

"Persian, go," Silven muttered in disgust at the pitiful opponent, and the feline flicked a lazy ear in his general direction before leaping forward with ferocity…

Instinct played a four-way tug-o-war as bright daylight struck Ajani's hide. Half of him boiled with an uncontrollable fury whose roots lay imbedded in his soul; a smaller part was meek and frightened, frantically searching for a refuge or an escape of any sort. Another part of him was like a lake at midnight – calm and collected, contented to watch the world go by with its own inner peace.

His mind did not have the stability to weigh his choices, so he simply fell into his emotions: to fight, to run, to hide, or to listen. His rage stomped out his urge to hide, crushing it to fragments as the visage of weakness. Yet his will to listen was not crushed, it simply allowed itself to fade into the background, slipping away from his consciousness.

It was in that moment that his anger and hate won the internal struggle, and he physically and viciously launched himself at the first thing in his view…

Silven made no attempt to calm or even control his monster, allowing it to wreak havoc on the smaller Raticate. The rat-type pokemon squealed and struggled in the fight, the Persian's teeth sunk deep into its body. The rat thrashed wildly to no avail, and Terra's attempts at recalling the distressed pokemon were consistently blocked by the Persian. Every time she thought she had an opening, the feline would move and cause the red beam to brush ineffectively against his hide.

Terra broke down into tears on the field as the Raticate gave one final squeal before its skull was crushed in the Persian's mouth. The crowd went wild at this action, and the announcer was nearly hysterical with excitement. The victor chewed on the carcass of its opponent for a few precious moments before losing interest.

It raised its bloody muzzle from its kill, and hissed menacingly at the trainer across from him. Terra was on the dirt arena floor, having collapsed to her knees in tears. The Persian lowered its head between its shoulder blades, ears back in rage. It took four steps forward before launching into a sprint, its claws unsheathed and its teeth bared.

Silven watched with mild amusement on his face as his Persian tore through human flesh, blood splattering the beast's tan coat as it did so. No one made a move to save the trainer as the Persian's claws made quick work of disemboweling the human. There was no consequence in an underground match if trainer or pokemon were injured or killed. Once the screams had stopped, the pokemon lost interest, just as he had done with the Raticate. It raised its head and stared intently at the only living thing left within its reach – its own trainer.

The fur along its back rose as another snarl issued from its lips. Once more, it took a few cautious steps forward with its head lowered between its shoulder blades. Silven's hand flew to the pokeball at his side, and the attacking Persian melted into red beams as it returned to its temporary prison within the small sphere.

It was quiet, so quiet. And that silence allowed Ajani's rage to subside into the dark, calm waters of his mind. Unaware of the events transpiring outside of his sphere of existence, he allowed himself to drift across the lake and into sleep.

Silven walked back into the waiting room under the arena, his Persian's pokeball strapped to his belt loop. The cage that the pokemon had been stored in for the pre-match shots of steroids and adrenaline had been moved out. One of the arena officials approached him with his paycheck for winning, and allowed him out of the waiting room and into the lobby. On his way out, he passed a younger boy and his Arcanine. The dog-type monster growled viciously as he passed but was quickly silenced by a sharp rap on its nose from its trainer.

Money in pocket, the brown-haired trainer was preparing to leave the coliseum altogether when a short man wearing an expensive-looking suit approached him. The man tipped his hat, revealing a bald spot, before extending a chubby hand in greeting. Silven refused the handshake, obviously disgusted by the so-called "gentleman" before him.

"Yes, well. I have a business proposition for you, sir," The man stated a bit pointedly, as if he was not used to being ignored.

"I'm not interested," Silven said evenly, attempting to step around the rather plump man before him. The man grabbed his arm.

"I think you should be. It's a rather large sum of money to be turning down." The man eyed Silven interestedly, as if sizing him up for how much he could offer before being accepted.

"How much?" Silven was annoyed, and his gray eyes flashed with that annoyance.

"500 thousand yen."

"I get at least that from these fights, and they're on my own schedule."

The man bowed his head for a moment and twiddled with his suit cuff, "Fine, one million. And all you have to do is one thing."

"And that would be?"

"Assassination," The chubby man's voice scratched slightly as a large grin spread across his face.

AN: _Yes, a cliffhanger! I have part of the next chapter written up, and will not hesitate to finish it with enough reviews. J Of course, I'll most likely post it without any review. _


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